


Carnations And Aloe

by Lyonya_On_The_River_19



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: "We Did Everything Right", Angst, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memories, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyonya_On_The_River_19/pseuds/Lyonya_On_The_River_19
Summary: "Guilt Is Perhaps The Most Painful Companion Of Death."-Coco Chanel
Relationships: Aleksandr Akimov/Leonid Toptunov
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Carnations And Aloe

**Author's Note:**

> -Sentences like these are flashbacks or memories-

It was two years since the disaster.   
Two years since it all fell down.  
Akimov laid a bouquet of carnations and aloe on Lenya’s grave. Stolyarchuk, Kirschenbaum, and Yuvchenko were with him in the quiet cemetery, helping him lay down flowers and silently mourn their fallen comrades.   
But Lenya’s grave was special to him.  
Akimov quietly surveyed the result, wanting to make sure that his deceased love’s resting place was perfect and clean. It hurt his heart that Lenya, sweet young Lenya, was blamed for Chernobyl, the same monstrous thing that had so cruelly taken away his life. He could hear his ears ringing with the last four words he had told Leonid, haunting him.  
“We did everything right.”  
AT THE APARTMENT…  
The coffee brewer finished making the coffee and Akimov took it out. He eyed the brewer a bit sadly, the first gift Lenya had ever given him and one of the many triggers that led to their relationship. Suddenly a drop of water landed in the dark-brown coffee and Akimov realized that he was crying. He wiped the tears off, but more came soon.   
\- “You’re trampling on my feet!”  
“Sorry, sorry.”  
Lenya giggled as the couple slowly waltzed (or at least tried to) on the apartment floor. After the waltz, the twin lovers collapsed down on Akimov’s sofa and laid together, listening to each other’s heartbeats. -  
Akimov knew that Leonid’s heartbeat would haunt him forever. The last heartbeat that he had heard from Leonid was a fast, frightened, staccato one, as he vomited blood in the hospital.   
As they both realized that they wouldn’t survive and were running out of time.   
A scream was stuck in Akimov’s throat. Leonid’s frightened voice repeated in his mind and his shrill, pain-filled screams as he entered the manifest illness phase filled Akimov’s ears.   
Because it was his fault.  
His fault that so many people died.  
His fault that Leonid died such a painful death.   
Suddenly the doorbell rang out, stopping Akimov’s dismal spiral. He got up, slowly walked towards the door, and opened it with trepidation.   
Outside stood a woman with curly brown hair, intelligent blue eyes, and a large maroon purse. She offered her hand to him to shake and he took it, shaking it briefly. Akimov politely ushered her inside. She sat down on the sofa, cleared her throat, and said in a soft, yet authoritative, tone.  
“Greetings, Comrade Akimov. I’m Ulana Khomyuk from the Chernobyl Commission. I would like to tell you something”  
Akimov raised an eyebrow as he remembered. He nodded and asked her quietly.  
“Greetings Comrade. You were the one who interviewed me and Toptunov, correct?”  
Khomyuk slowly nodded, took out some papers from her purse, handed them over to Akimov, and said “Comrade. The Commission has found out that there was a flaw in the RBMK reactor. That caused the disaster. Keep in mind that this information is secret and cannot be revealed to anybody. Understood?”  
Akimov’s mouth went dry and his throat closed up as he quickly read the document. He felt shell-shocked. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Akimov opened his mouth and blurted out.  
“So none of this was my fault?”  
Khomyuk smiled lightly and said, “Of course.” She looked over at the clock, stood up, sighed, and said urgently to Akimov “I really must be going. Otherwise, they’ll know that I’ve gone somewhere. Good day, comrade.”   
As Khomyuk went away, Akimov exhaled deeply and dropped down on the couch, feeling dizzy.   
He knew his love wouldn’t return. But now he knew he wasn’t responsible for Lenya’s death.   
And that was a bit comforting.


End file.
